The Revolution Will Not Be Televised
by Menamebephil
Summary: AU. TT/JLU Xover. Lords 'verse. PG-13. Rob/Star. BB/Rae. In the totalitarian regime of the Justice Lords, Jump City is a hotbed of dissent. 'Nuff said, really. Apologies to Gil Scott-Heron.
1. Prologue

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

**The Revolution Will Not Be Televised.**

**I cannot believe that no one else has done this yet.**

**--**

**Chapter One: Prologue.**

"What'cha got there, 'Wing?"

Nightwing started on the sofa, and span around to see a grinning green countenance.

_Note to self: Changeling can still sneak up on you. Work on this._

"Nothing," he replied cagily, and inwardly smacked himself in the face. If there was anything he could have said to increase his verdant teammate's curiosity, that had probably been it.

"Well, if it's nothing, then you won't mind me looking, will you?" retorted Changeling, grinning as he spoke.

Nightwing's hand reflexively twitched towards his utility belt. One smoke pellet might distract Gar for long enough for Nightwing to vault over the sofa and...

...and get pestered by Gar later, probably in front of the others. He couldn't have that- in his current state of mind, he was far too likely to let something slip. Slowly, he uncurled his fist from around its contents, revealing to Changeling a small velvet box.

"Dude...is that what I think it is?" Changeling blinked.

"No Gar, it _isn't _edible," Nightwing riposted, with a smirk.

Gar's fingers snaked out, snatching the box from his leader's unresisting palm, and deftly popped it open. His eyes lit up as he examined the contents, and his face twitched into a broad, slow grin.

Nightwing ran his fingers through his long hair. "Yep. Gonna ask her any day now."

Gar flipped the box closed and returned it to Nightwing, before punching his leader on the arm.

"Way to go, dude. It's good to have something to _celebrate_ for a change, 'specially after..." his voice trailed off as he contemplated the end of his sentence.

Nightwing peered into the coffee table. "Yeah." Two months was too soon. It was never going to vanish, he knew, time wasn't going to erase the fact that there was a great big Wally-shaped hole in the universe, but two months was too soon.

Gar blinked, and grinned. "Oh boy, Rae's gonna _love_ being a bridesmaid. Bet'cha Star's gonna make her wear pink." And just like that, the mood was broken.

Nightwing smirked, once again, at the image of Raven in a pink dress, black power trailing destruction wherever she went.

"If she did, Raven would probably find some way to blame you."

Gar shrugged, unconcerned. "Probably because it would be my fault." With that, he plonked his feet on the coffee table, and, with an extraordinary display of muscle control, used his foot to flip the remote high into the air and right into his waiting hand.

Nightwing shook his head as Gar began flipping through channels. "You spend _way _too much time here."

Gar studiously ignored him, instead concentrating in delivering a concise critique of the selection of shows available.

"Crap...crap...crap...crap...ooh, Clash of the Planets! ...Wait, this is one of the prequels. Crap...crap...cr- oww! Dude, that _hurts_!"

Nightwing didn't release his grip on Changeling's arm. "Go back a second."

"But everyone with taste knows that 'Clash of the Planets: The Spectral Nuisance' sucks-"

"Go back to CNN. Now," Nightwing replied tonelessly.

_Click._

"_- killed earlier today in an attempt to launch a thermonuclear strike against China. So far, Superman has been unavailable for interview, although he has scheduled a press conference for tomorrow. The Vice-President earlier today released this statement:_

'_President Luthor had, for some months now, been displaying erratic behaviour, but none of us believed he was incapable of doing his job. We have to apologise to the American people for our lack of vigilance, and thank the Justice Lords for their timely intervention...'"_

"Dude...what the...?" Gar breathed.

Nightwing didn't respond, instead running over to the wall and activating the alert.

--

Several hours after the announcement, the Titans had gathered in the main room. Cyborg was attempting to make dinner, but he was possessed of a distracted air, and he had been stirring the same pan of sauce for twenty-five minutes. The others were draped around the room, surrounded by varying auras of thoughtfulness, all of which were shattered when a cowled visage appeared on the enormous viewscreen.

Nightwing jerked to his feet, and stared at the face of his erstwhile father, blown up to ridiculous proportions.

"What do you want?" Nightwing asked, with customary tact.

"You have seen the reports, I presume."

"Yeah. What of it?"

"We need you back in Gotham."

"_What?!_" Nightwing's hands balled into fists, and he leant forwards, his teeth a solid wall of enamel.

"It's time for a change of pace."


	2. You will not be able to plug in

**Chapter Two: ****You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out.**

Dick ground his teeth together as his motorcycle weaved its way along the highway. Who exactly did Bruce think he was, ordering him around like that?

Well, that was a stupid question. Dick knew _exactly_ who Bruce thought he was: the God-Damned Batman. And, in his official capacity as the God Damned Batman, it was well within his jurisdiction to order all and sundry around without considering the effect it could have on them, act like a total asshole, and get away with wearing pointy ears without anyone passing comment.

And here he was, driving all the way back to Gotham, just because Batman said so.

No wait, that wasn't right. He was also going back because just a few hours ago Superman had _killed the legally elected President of the United States_, and Dick figured if _anyone_ had any answers at all, it would be Bruce.

He just wished there had been some way to get those answers without having to leave Jump. Who knew when he was coming back...

_No. Don't think like that. You're going to go, do whatever little chore Bruce wants, pump him for information, then go home and ask Star to marry you. That's all. Besides, it might be a good opportunity to actually get to know your replacement..._

--

Starfire sat in the main room, lost in thought. Although she had been sorry to see Richard go, she was hopeful that he would return quickly, perhaps with news of reconciliation with his father. Starfire was an eternal optimist.

Her thoughts at the moment were on the events of earlier today. Had this occurred on Tameran, the issue would have been far clearer.

Regicide was not unknown on Tameran, although there had not been a case since the death of Strortarr the Incompetent some seven hundred years ago. However, in that, as all other cases of Tameranean regicide, it had been in a formal duel for the crown, with the challenger (in that case, Salammand'r I, founder of the And'r dynasty) endorsed by the High Council.

Lex had not been a king, and Superman had not had a mandate from any kind of council, senate, or court, but, to a Tameranean, the intent was clear. Superman had grabbed power.

Of course, that was not how it worked on Earth. Starfire recalled how Richard, back when he had been Robin, had explained the concept of democracy to her. She had been fascinated, and somewhat enamoured, by the idea, until it had become clear that while _she_ could not vote, there was no legal way to stop Slade from voting. To her, the flaw had been transparent.

Idly, she wondered what life under Superman's rule would be like. Surely he would be a better leader than Lex.

--

The motorcycle screeched up the driveway, sliding to a halt on the gravel. Activating the autonomous security systems, he dismounted and removed his helmet, shaking his hair out as he did so. As always, Alfred was there to greet him.

To anyone who did not know the butler, he would have seemed as unemotional as a towel rack. However, Dick could instantly tell something was off.

"Master Dick," he said, "it is good to see you again." Dick's suspicions were confirmed by the tone in Alfred's voice.

"You too, Al. Any idea what the old man wants?"

"I am sure he would rather tell you himself. He instructed me to ask you to change as soon as you arrived. He would rather not keep anyone waiting."

Dick raised an eyebrow at that. The sentence had certainly warranted one.

--

Nightwing descended the steps of the Batcave to find it fuller than it had ever been. The new Robin (Tim, he mentally reminded himself) nodded at him, and that was the politest greeting he got. The rest of the people, who Nightwing recognised as the Lords and Batgirl, were engrossed in the quietest shouting match any of them had ever seen.

"It's my city, I say how we're running this," Batman spat through gritted teeth.

"We're here as the Justice Lords, and I lead the Lords," Superman riposted, his voice low and even.

"Nightwing, Robin and Batgirl aren't members."

Superman raised an eyebrow. "We could always induct them."

Nightwing wasn't sure he was too keen on that, and from the looks he was getting from Tim and Barbara, they didn't seem thrilled either.

"Not happening." Batman's voice clearly stated: You Are Not Going To Change My Mind. Ever.

Superman scowled, but his voice remained steady. "We are doing this _my_ way."

Nightwing interjected. "What exactly _are_ we doing?"

Batman was about to speak, but Hawkgirl got there first.

"We're cleaning up America, starting with Gotham. The old ways aren't working, so we're trying some new ones."

Nightwing didn't respond, but he couldn't deny the chill that ran up his spine at her words.

--

The Joker sat in his warehouse lair, reclining in a huge leather armchair, dressed not in his suit but in a purple velvet smoking jacket, flicking blithely through a photo album.

On the front, the words "Our Wedding" had been crossed out and replaced with "Greatest Gags".

Every now and again, he would happen upon a picture that would cause his grin to nearly split his face in two.

A clown and a gymnast walk into a bar...well, the possibilities from there were _endless_...

Slaughter all the patrons (classics are classics for a reason);

Lace the drinks with arsenic (make sure you've got a camera for when they find out!);

Pump the place full of SmileX (good for tough crowds);

Burn the establishment to the ground (for those times when you need something _incandescent_);

Pie the barman (hey, who says you have to be original _all_ the time?);

As above, but fill the pie with broken glass (a shocking twist ending- always gets a chuckle from the intellectuals);

Dynamite (guaranteed to bring down the house);

Order two lemonades and a packet of peanuts (keep 'em guessing, that was the Joker way!)

His reminiscences were interrupted by a knocking on the door. He scowled, and shouted down the hallway.

"_Haarrley_! There's someone at the door!"

Harley Quinn positively _skipped_ through the doorway, wearing a pink pinafore over her costume. She had been indulging in a little spring cleaning. With a bright smile to her beloved, she picked up her bazooka (her pride and joy) and left for the door.

After a few seconds, there was an explosion, and the Joker nodded to himself. He half wished that he had thought to invite whoever it was in. He had had such _fun_ with those Jehovah's Witnesses, and he was sure that they had found their visit informative. They had certainly learned more about human anatomy.

Suddenly his ceiling exploded, and the Justice Lords descended.

Joker's eyebrows shot up, and he turned to see Nightwing, Batgirl, and Robin walking through the door Harley had left by.

"Bats!" Joker barked, and he smiled broadly. "You brought company!" At the stony silence that followed his words, he pouted. "What, are the rest of you as talkative as Tall, Dark, and Brooding?" He gave a theatrical sigh, but his face suddenly brightened. "Wait, I know just the thing to loosen those tongues." With that, he dove for his pocket, his bone white fingers clasped around a SmileX grenade...

All of a sudden Superman's hand was crushing his throat.

Joker blinked. "Why...Big Blue...never knew you had it in you."

Superman made no move to respond, except with a sudden tightening of his grip.

Joker could hardly believe it. As far as he knew, (and few knew better than he) Superman's grip would kill him before half a minute was up.

He was being choked to death. By Superman. _Superman_ was _killing_ him.

And Batman was just watching.

There was only one word for this.

Hysterical. This had to be the most absolutely, unquestionably, irrefutably ridiculous death scene ever, far beyond anything his twisted mind could have dreamt up.

So he laughed. He laughed long and loud, laughed in the face of his murderer, even as the man's eyes turned red, and his focus turned to the Joker's forehead.

Who got the last laugh, Bats?

_Me._

--

It was a subdued group that made their way back to the Batcave as dawn was breaking. Few words were spoken as the various crimefighters made their way to bed. Batman stayed, sitting at his enormous computer. Nightwing too, stood, leaning against a stalagmite.

For a man who had just witnessed the final defeat of his indisputable nemesis, Batman did not look happy.

"So, is this how we fight crime these days? 'Cause I missed that memo." Nightwing's voice was cold.

"Go to bed, Dick." Batman sounded tired, _defeated_.

"I'm not some kid anymore. You can't order me around." The words sounded juvenile even in his head, but he didn't really care.

Batman gave that exactly the response it deserved.

After a few minutes of stony silence, Nightwing gave up and headed to bed.


	3. The revolution will not be brought to

Chapter Three: The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox

**Chapter Three: The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox.**

Cyborg was woken from recharge by his perimeter alarms going off. Instantly alert, he strode over to his computer and examined the camera that had registered the anomaly. When he saw who it was, his eyebrow raised in surprise, and he quickly made his way to the roof.

--

Cyborg stepped out onto the roof to find their visitor staring out over the city, admiring the panorama. When she made no indication that she had noticed him, he cleared his throat once. At this, she started and turned.

"Ah. Good morning."

Cyborg simply nodded.

"Cyborg; isn't it."

"Yeah. I assume this isn't a social call." Cyborg didn't mean to be blunt, but she _had_ woken him up at three in the morning. Wonder Woman simply nodded, though.

"Did you see the news yesterday?"

"Of course. The newly inaugurated President declared a national state of emergency." _And, in Wholly Unrelated News, the Justice Lords were given executive authority over the police force._

"Indeed. And, in our newly official capacity, we are going to do everything within our power to ensure the safety of our citizens." With that, she handed over a brown envelope, which Cyborg took with a quizzical glance. He opened it, and scanned through the contents.

"This is...a list. Of known Jump City criminals."

"Yes. We think it's time for a more...proactive...approach," Wonder Woman said.

"I...see." Cyborg went over the list again.

_Mad Mod, Control Freak, Mammoth, Billy Numerous, Gizmo, Seemore, Kyd Wykkyd, Jinx..._

"Whoa, hold on a second," Cyborg said, "I think you've made a mistake here, Jinx _reformed_."

Wonder Woman frowned. "I didn't write the list. Superman did, with the help of some of Batman's files. But did this "Jinx" ever do time for the crimes she committed before her reformation?"

Cyborg frowned. "I'm...not sure." He continued more carefully. "Tell me...what will happen to those criminals we hypothetically turn over to your jurisdiction?"

"Re-education for those we deem receptive," Wonder Woman replied blankly.

"And... for those who you _don't _deem receptive?"

Wonder Woman hesitated, and that was all the answer Cyborg needed.

"I'm...I'm sure they will be dealt with fairly."

Cyborg nodded grimly. Nightwing hadn't exactly been forthcoming in the transmissions he had sent from Gotham, but it had been clear that he didn't like what he saw.

"Right, thanks for clearing that up." He continued, ignoring the growing trepidation in the pit of his stomach. This was _Wonder Woman_, for Christ's sake. A _good guy_. Girl. Whatever. "So...I was wondering, what would happen in the entirely hypothetical situation that we decided _not_ to turn these people over to you?"

Wonder Woman nodded, at home with doublespeak. "Well, you would hypothetically have your commitment to your jobs questioned, and we would take over the protection of Jump City until such time as you could be considered fit to take on such responsibility once more."

Cyborg scowled, fixing Wonder Woman with a steely gaze. "Thanks for the clarification. We'll get right on it. I assume you can show yourself out."

--

Cyborg sat in the main room, his face impassive, but his mind churning. It had been two hours since Wonder Woman's flying visit, which should give him another three hours before he could expect anyone else to interrupt him, with the resident dawn riser out if town.

Jinx was at the crux of his thoughts. This was not entirely unprecedented; for at least a year following his infiltration of the HIVE Academy, he had entertained an infatuation with the pink-haired crook. That had long subsided, however, by the time she had renounced her criminal lifestyle. Now all that was left was an honest concern for the wellbeing of the ex-criminal.

A quick check had revealed that Jinx had (excluding the few times the Titans had been successful in getting the HIVE FIVE behind bars) never served anything _close_ to a full prison term, always escaping after the first couple of weeks. The atrophied Jump City (and later Central City) Police Force had taken something of a blind eye when it came to her, especially since she had been seen dating the Flash, who had been damn near _worshipped_ in Central and Keystone.

Now Cyborg had a problem. As a superhero, the vast majority of his job could be described as rounding up criminals. Jinx had not, technically, "paid off her debt to society".

Cyborg blinked, suddenly struck by something. As a superhero, it _wasn't _his job to round up criminals. It was simply to stop people hurting other people. That was all. He wasn't an officer of the law, he didn't have to have an intricate knowledge of the legal system, (he _did_ have an intricate knowledge of the legal system, but that was beside the point) his job was simply to stop people getting hurt.

The Justice Lords didn't appear to agree with him. Well, too bad for them. Jinx wasn't hurting anyone, and from the looks of things, the Justice Lords wouldn't be too concerned with her wellbeing.

He stood. The choice was made. Quickly, he walked to the privacy of his room. He had an email to send.

--

Cyborg rubbed his head in frustration. He had thought of a problem. A pointy-eared and black-caped problem.

A code, he needed a code. Preferably something that referred to a shared experience, so the Big Bad Bat would have a hard time deciphering it, if he ever noticed it.

Suddenly, inspiration dawned. Cracking his knuckles, for the benefit of his imaginary audience more than anything else, he began to type.

--

Jinx woke up that morning full of determination. It had been nearly two months since... that event. No, she was not going to avoid the word. The _funeral_. She was going to clean the apartment, throw away all of her black clothes (even the ones that were designed to be stylish and sexy, as opposed to sombre), and start living again. She was going to forget about Wally. She wasn't going to think about him every time she saw a flash of red, he was going to be completely absent from her thoughts whenever she passed a hot dog stand, and she would _not_ have fudge ripple ice cream ever again. (It had been his favourite, and she had never told him that she hated it.) She would keep her cool if anyone came up to her in the street and offered her condolences (this being Central City, this had happened a lot, and had contributed to her sudden agoraphobia), and she was going to go back to work.

With this resolve in mind, she turned on her computer, and filed through the huge backlog of email that had accumulated during her reclusion. The most recent one caught her eye, as it had no named sender, and no explanation as to its contents. Thus, she opened that one first, and the fact that the vast majority of the rest were labelled things like "condolences" had _nothing_ to do with _anything_.

It wasn't what she had expected. She wasn't sure what is was she _had_ expected, but the message she read certainly wasn't it.

_Run this off in a few moments, so excuse brevity__**.**__ Lord knows you don't want to hear from me right now__**.**__ Wants and needs are different things though__**.**_ _You can be certain that if you ever need to talk, I'll be there__**.**__ Dead certain__**.**__ Stone the crows, is that the time?_

_Signing off, your pal,_

_Lucy Ring._

...What the hell was that all about? And who the hell was Lucy Ring?

Lucy Ring, Lucy Ring...

Jinx was certain she'd never known someone by that name, but it certainly _did_ have a familiar ring to it.

After a few seconds, the answer hit her like an errant cannonball.

--

_The time: Eight years ago._

_The place: HIVE Academy Cryptology Class._

"_For next week, I want an essay on the Lucy Spy Ring," the cryptology professor droned._

_Stone and Jinx shared raised-eyebrow glances. A few seats away, Gizmo chuckled to himself._

"_Lucy Ring? What kind of pansy name is _that_?"_

_He would no doubt have continued, had his folder decided to spontaneously beat him around the head. All eyes turned to the professor, who had casually waved his hand._

"_Are you_ quite_ finished, Master O'Jeneus?" he droned? "So kind of you."_

--

So. It was in code. Jinx stared at the email for a few minutes before deciding it would be easier to print it out. After another few minutes, she got a pencil.

In about ten minutes, she had it. As she read the circled words, her unique eyes widened, and the hand that grasped the paper started to shake.

"Oh _shit_..."

**--**

**I know it's a little implausible for Jinx to instantly remember something from nearly a decade ago, but it's amazing how things come back to you, isn't it? Translation: Roll with it).**

**For Added Entertainment, try cracking the code! First to manage it gets a complementary complimentary message, a worthy prize, I can assure you.**


	4. The revolution will not make you look

Chapter Four: The revolution will not make you look five pounds thinner

**Chapter Four: The revolution will not make you look five pounds thinner.**

When Raven made her way into the main room, she was mildly disconcerted to see Cyborg sitting on the couch. He always, _always_ got up at nine thirty, a good hour away.

After observing him for a few minutes, and taking note of his aura of discomfort, she decided that she had to be proactive. Not something she was particularly good at, but she would try.

"Cyborg?" She tried again. "Cyborg? Are you alright?"

After a moment, he turned to look at her.

"We need a team meeting."

--

"What's this about, Dick?"

Barbara entered Dick's luxurious room in Wayne Manor to find Tim and Dick already waiting for her. Tim was sitting on a chair, fidgeting nervously; while Dick had his arms clamped behind his back and was staring at the rain pouring down the windowpane.

"I think you can guess, Babs," Dick responded, turning around abruptly.

She snorted in response. "Well, it could be a few things. Could be a team meeting to discuss the new costumes the Lords asked us to design, could have something to do with the fact that we're pretty much unnecessary now that all the major bad guys have been...dealt with." At this she looked around furtively, which elicited a small smile from Nightwing.

"Don't worry; you can say it out loud. 'Lobotomised'. I already swept the room for any surveillance devices."

"And you didn't find any?" Tim suggested.

"_Au contraire_, young one. I found five," Dick responded brightly.

"_Five_? Doesn't that strike you as a little... excessive?"

Dick shrugged. "'Excessive' seems to be the watchword these days. I was actually going to ask you both what you thought of how things have gone recently." He kept his face carefully blank.

Tim glanced at Barbara, who shrugged. "Well, if you were referring to the fact that we've found ourselves as part of the executive arm of a police state, things kinda suck," Tim supplied.

Dick nodded. "Babs?"

Batgirl nodded quietly. "Yeah. I'd say 'things suck' is a pretty accurate estimation of the situation."

"Then we're in agreement. But now we have a new problem. What are we going to do about it?"

The three fell silent, lost in thought, when there was a sudden knock at the door. Dick hurriedly motioned for Tim and Barbara to hide, and he went for the door.

"Yeah? Oh, hi Al." Dick visibly relaxed.

"Good evening, master Dick. Master Bruce has asked me to inform you that your communicator was deactivated."

"I know," he replied blandly, "I was taking a shower."

"Indeed," Alfred replied, studiously avoiding looking at Dick's bone-dry hair, "but master Bruce requires you for patrol."

Dick raised his eyebrows. "Is that the time?" He checked his watch. "Crap. Thanks for telling me."

"Not at all."

--

Nightwing leapt from rooftop to rooftop, reveling in the solitude. At last the Justice Lords had deemed Gotham to be up to standard, once the city was utterly unrecognizable, and their crusade had driven on to Central City.

On a whim, he dropped down to street level. He noticed, with a despondent eye, that even the streets seemed cleaner than he remembered. Noting the fog suddenly rolling in, he prepared a zip line.

"Mister Grayson."

Nightwing jumped, and immediately span in the direction of the voice. A phantom loomed in the haze.

"A moment of your time, if you please." The fog rolled back slightly, revealing a man. Nightwing's practiced eye scanned him in an instant, noting all his distinguishing figures.

Nondescript would be the perfect word to describe the man. He was of average height, with an average build, and no visible distinguishing features. Had it not been for his attire, he would not have merited a second glance in a normal setting.

He seemed to be wearing a black suit and tie, with a pair of white gloves. Over this he wore what Dick took to be a navy blue trenchcoat, topped with a matching fedora, pulled low so most of his face was in shadow. A large golden medallion hung from his neck.

Nightwing scowled. "Who are you?"

"A perfect Stranger, Mister Grayson."

"...Why do you keep calling me that?"

The figure chuckled. "Now, don't be so reserved, Mister Grayson. I know quite a lot about you, you know."

"...Is that a _threat_?"

"Oh no. I just want to talk."

"So talk." Nightwing figured that the best thing to do would be to humor this unknown quantity until he could control the situation again.

"Thank you, Mister Grayson. Now, you know quite as well as I do the particulars of the situation, so we can dispense with any lengthy recaps. The crux of the matter is this: you find yourself uncomfortable in the situation you currently find yourself in, am I correct?"

Nightwing's silence was answer enough.

"Indeed. But now you don't know what to do, do you? Open defiance, well, that's absurd. Quite apart from the fact that that would mean going against Superman, you don't feel entirely comfortable with the idea of a war where you and Bruce are on different sides; isn't that right?" The man spoke in a low, breathy tone, and syllables would bunch up at odd intervals, and then flow forwards like a dam bursting.

_He knows Batman is Bruce. This is potentially Very Bad_. Nightwing forced himself to remain calm. "If you're going to insist on using names, could you not do so in the middle of the street? Someone might hear you."

The man chuckled, and for a second Nightwing was certain his eyes had flashed white, two stars in the blackness. "Oh, I very much doubt that, Mister Grayson."

"You still haven't explained how you know that name."

"I know. But I cannot allow myself the luxury of idle conversation, Mister Grayson; I came to deliver a warning. Staying here could well be your ruin."

Nightwing tensed. "That is most definitely a threat."

Robin would have sprung by now. Robin would have attacked when the stranger first used his surname. But Nightwing was older, and liked to think he had learned. Robin had been a ball of nervous, fearful and paranoid focused energy, rarely thinking as he leapt. Sure, he had thought before he had leapt, usually several hours before, but too often he got caught up in his own excessive personality. Nightwing, he liked to think, had tempered this somewhat.

So it was, not with a little difficulty, that he restrained himself and allowed the stranger to continue speaking.

"Perhaps it is, but not from me. I just want to warn you. You may think that by staying here, under the Lords' thumb, you can temper the bad decisions they make; but think on this: in order to soften the blow of bad orders, you have to _follow_ bad orders."

Nightwing scowled. "What are you saying? That I should run? Start a resistance?"

"_I_ am not saying you should do anything, Mister Grayson. I am simply showing you the choices you can make. Or you could completely ignore me, as is your prerogative. Good evening, Mister Grayson."

With that, he turned on his heel, and the fog swallowed him whole.

--

"So, what's this about, Cy?" Gar asked as he took his place at the table.

It was the kitchen table the Titans had gathered around, since they had never seen the need for a conference table.

Cyborg cleared his throat through force of habit, and spoke.

"This morning, I was contacted by Wonder Woman." Ignoring the way everyone started at that, he soldiered on. "She gave me this." He placed the list on the table. "It's a list of known Jump City criminals, both past and present. They want us to round them up for them." Everyone started glancing at one another, and Cyborg ploughed onwards, determined to say everything before anyone else took the floor. "I have already subverted this. Jinx was on the list; it seems they didn't know about her, other than the fact that she used to be in the HIVE. I sent her a message warning her that the Lords were after her. So, my question is, what do we do now?"

Silence reigned. Gar was, predictably, the first to lead a revolt against it.

"Dude, that's...that's kind of a lot to take in, you know?"

Cyborg nodded. "Yeah, I know."

Raven sighed. "I'm going to go ahead and assume that we _don't_ want any of these people in the Lord's hands?"

Three heads nodded, some more enthusiastically than others.

"But at the same time none of us want to draw any attention from the Lords?"

This time the nods were immediate and emphatic.

"So we have a problem." All of the Titans had heard the rumors about what happened to lawbreakers under the Lords' tender care. They ranged from the Manhunter wiping their minds to Superman using his heat vision to perform field lobotomies to outright execution.

Changeling coughed. "I have an idea." He paused.

"What?" Raven said, annoyed that he seemed to be staring at her.

"I was just giving you time to say something sarcastic," he said good naturedly. "Anyway, why don't we just tell the Lords' we're going along with it? You know, say 'Alrighty, Batman, we'll get right on it', or something, and a way along the line, say something like 'we're still looking, don't you worry, we'll get those na'er-do-wells'. That way it looks like we're working, and since none of the local bad guys are dumb enough to go around being actively, ya know, _supervillain-y _at the moment, with all the rumors flying around, we shouldn't have a problem. 'Sides, they have bigger fish to lobotomize at the moment."

Starfire scowled. "Garfield! That idea is...is...most underhanded!" she spluttered.

Cyborg nodded. "I like it. It's a temporary solution, but we're not exactly pulling options out of our asses, if you'll excuse the language."

Raven nodded, but couldn't help but wonder what they would do when the Lords directed their purge at Jump.


	5. NBC will not be able predict the winner

**Chapter Five: ****NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8:32.**

Nightwing was a man at the end of his tether. He would try _one_ last time to convince Bruce to end the madness the Lords had plunged the country in to, and that would be all.

Some days it seemed as if he was getting through. Bruce would never actually _say_ anything, but Nightwing knew him well enough to read his silences, and they waxed lyrical on the subject of Superman's regime. For all that, though, Bruce seemed, as ever, stubbornly determined never to speak his concerns aloud, or even admit to their existence.

Well, one last try. One last attempt to speak past the cowl and to the man.

It wasn't going well.

"Are you saying you support a regime where the Lords are judge, jury and executioner?"

Batman didn't respond, hunched in his big, scary Bat-chair.

"I mean, sure, I could kinda, _kinda_ see where you're coming from if it was just Superman, I mean, he's _Superman_, maybe even the Green Lantern, but what about the Thanagarian? She's a loose cannon, and don't try to tell me she's not."

"There are...protocols. We can keep her in line."

"And what about the others? Do you keep _them_ in line too?"

There was no answer.

"And who keeps _you_ in line, Bruce? Superman and the Martian keeping tabs on you? I wouldn't be surprised. These days you got to hang a lump of kryptonite over your doorway and wear a tinfoil hat in the bath just to ensure a little _privacy_." Nightwing sadly shook his head. "You remember Zucco, right? Remember when we first met? I was going to hunt him down, probably get myself killed doing it. You found me, took me in, and_ trained _me. And when we finally took him down, I wanted, more than anything else in the world, to kill him. But I didn't.

"Because that's what you taught me. You told me that Justice wasn't ours to mete out, that our job was simply to catch the criminals. We never, ever killed anyone. Once I was old enough to understand it, I respected you, more than anything else, for that. Always seemed to me like a sign of how much you _believed _in humanity, that even the _Joker_ wasn't above rescuing-"

"Twenty years," Batman said quietly, interrupting Nightwing's tirade. "That's how long I've been doing this, tilting at this windmill. Twenty years, and this is the first time I have ever seen the crime rates in Gotham actually _fall_." His voice gained conviction as he spoke. "When free, the Joker killed on average twelve people a _week_. Now we've made sure he'll never hurt anyone again."

"By sacrificing your principles? And it didn't stop at the Joker. I hear in Central City they lobotomized the _Trickster_. Justify that. Justify that to me, and I will never question you decisions again."

Batman gave no answer. Both knew full well that there was none to give. Nightwing shook his head slowly, and left the cave.

Once he was gone, Batman's posture slackened, and he slumped over in his chair.

--

"Tim. Wake up. Wake up."

Robin's eyes snapped open, and he saw an open backpack being slung at him. He found it had his costume inside.

"Grab anything you can't bear to leave behind. We're going."

Tim nodded without hesitation. They had discussed this.

"What about Babs?"

Dick shook his head. "I called her a moment ago. She won't leave her dad."

Robin nodded, and crammed a few effects into the backpack, along with a couple of changes of clothes.

"We taking your bike?"

Dick shook his head mournfully. "It's too recognizable. We'll have to leave her here."

Robin raised an eyebrow. "'Her'?"

"I mean it. Of course. It. Did I say 'her'? I didn't say 'her', did I?"

--

The two slipped through the darkened mansion, and made their way into the garage. There, Dick flamboyantly swept a dust cover off an indistinct shape, and grinned to himself. Before him stood a Harley-Davidson Softail in pristine condition.

"Ooh," Tim commented. As the two made their way towards the motorcycle, a genteel cough stopped them dead in their tracks. They turned to see Alfred illuminated in the doorway, as composed as ever.

"I was afraid it might come to this," he said, almost forlornly. "I assume you cannot tell me where you are going?"

Dick shook his head. "Sorry, Al," he said regretfully.

"Yeah," Tim chimed in. "We'll see you around, sometime."

Alfred nodded. "Would you like me to pass on any messages to anyone? I am sure many people will be asking after you."

Dick was quiet for a moment, then flashed a brief grin. "Tell 'em I went crazy." With that, he revved up the bike and the pair took off, weaving into the night.

--

Jinx cursed herself as she walked through the darkened streets. She had waited _far_ too long to get out. Stupidly, she thought she would have a couple of weeks before the Lords came.

Suddenly, she saw an indistinct shape in the mouth of an alley, and her danger sense went into overdrive. Forcing herself to act naturally, she strode on, charging a hex with the hand that was hidden to the alley-dweller. As she reached the alley, she head a ratcheting sound that heralded the cocking of a pistol, and let fly with the hex.

It never connected. As soon as she swung, her assailant ducked, and three more figures sprang from the shadows, all drawing sidearms as they did so. As Jinx squared off with the four men, none of them noticed the sudden fog that was rolling in.

Just as the four made a move to attack, the rearmost one collapsed with a cry. The others spun around wildly, and two were hit in the face with blasts of golden energy, emitted from somewhere in the smog. Jinx could only stare as the last man gibbered incoherently with his back to her. She was about to strike when what looked like a blue liquid, but acted more like a mist, seeped out of the ground behind him, and coalesced into a six foot pillar of blue cloth. The dark blue pillar obscured any sight of her attacker, but she heard him give a startled cry as he presumably turned around, then she heard three shots in quick succession, followed by a fourth.

The blue figure didn't move a fraction. A moment later, Jinx heard a murmur she couldn't make out, then a crumpling sound as the man collapsed wordlessly. Only then did her apparent rescuer turn around.

"Good evening, Ms. Bloom."

Jinx gaped like a fish. The man was dressed like a cross between a stage magician and a Private Eye. Suddenly, she noted what it was he'd said.

"That's not my name."

"Oh? I beg to differ, Ms. Bloom. Gl-"

"_No._ That is not my name, not any more." Jinx was forceful.

The stranger gave a long-suffering sigh. "As you wish, Ms. Jinx."

Jinx scowled. "What do you want?"

"You could be a little more polite. After all, I _did_ just save your life," he pointed out mildly.

"I coulda taken 'em. It'll take more than some muggers to bring _me_ down," she replied, with more flippancy than she felt.

"Oh? I suggest you examine them more closely." When she made no move to do so, he knelt down next to one of the men, and started rifling through his pockets.

"No I.D. of any kind, his handgun appears to be a Mark XIX .44 Desert Eagle, he's got a handheld transceiver and," here the man ripped open the comatose attacker's shirt "he's wearing Kevlar." He looked up at Jinx. "Quite well equipped for a street thug, wouldn't you say?"

Jinx shook off these revelations. "What do you _want _from me?"

"Oh, I was just checking you were alive and liberated, as well as making sure you _stayed _that way." He stood, brushing imagined dust from his knees. "Incidentally, do you have any idea where you're going?"

"...No." It galled Jinx to have to admit the amateur nature of her escape.

Bizarrely, he smiled at that. "Capital."

"What?"

"If _you_ don't know where you're going, how can anyone else? Good evening, Ms. Jinx."

--

**Shorter than usual (at least for this story) but next chapter things skip ahead a bit (about a year) and that would have been too weird to have mid-chapter.**


	6. There will be no highlights on the

**Chapter Six: There will be no highlights on the eleven o'clock News.**

Starfire was depressed, and with good reason.

At first, she had been somewhat optimistic about the idea of the Justice Lords taking more direct action. The times had been troubled, and she had hoped the Lords would provide a calming influence. Even when Richard had been called away, she had rationalised that the stability of the country was more important than her feelings, and that he would return as soon as the situation was back to normal.

Then the rumours started trickling back from Gotham. Gotham's most notorious criminals were being systematically hunted down by the Lords, and then...then it was unclear what exactly happened to them. Certainly they were never seen again. Richard had been reticent in his messages, focusing almost entirely on trivialities and the news from Jump, such as it was. On reflection, Starfire thought he was trying to forget what he was part of, at least for a while, and try to recapture some normality.

Then his transmissions had stopped altogether, a few months after he had left. In a panic, Starfire had tried to call him, only to receive no answer. She had only been prevented from actually flying to Gotham to demand an explanation by the short handwritten letter that had arrived at the tower one day. It had been short and impersonal, but she had kept it all the same.

_Guys,_

_Couldn't stay in Gotham any more. It's too crazy. Sorry I can't tell you where I'm going yet, who knows who might be listening. I'm alright. Look out for yourselves._

_Love you Star,_

_NW._

So, her boyfriend was a fugitive, her idols had become dictators, said dictators were becoming _very_ suspicious of the Titans, the people of Jump City seemed to be _afraid_ of them these days, and she could do absolutely nothing to rectify the situation.

Yes, Starfire had good reason to be depressed.

--

It was quiet, and Raven hated it.

Normally, she would thank whatever deity had decided to grant her temporary peace, but this quiet was far from peaceful.

Cyborg spent almost all his time tinkering in the garage, presumably for want of anything else to do. The only time any of them really saw him any more was at mealtimes, or when they went down into the garage, where Cyborg would all but ignore them.

Changeling walked on eggshells nowadays, constantly on edge. Raven wasn't entirely sure why, although she had her suspicions, but he seemed to be jumping at shadows. He would tense up at the slightest thing, and every time he walked into a room his eyes seemed to rove in their sockets, as if he was checking for threats.

Starfire, Raven thought, was worst of all. After all, the boys' behaviour, while far from typical, was not entirely unprecedented. Cyborg's favourite form of therapy was working on some mechanical contrivance or other, and while Beast Boy's sudden neurosis was more perturbing than she would like to admit, he had _always_ been a little twitchy, he'd just hidden it beneath a veneer of sloth before.

The only time Starfire's behaviour had even come _close_ to what she was like now had been when Dick had gone off to train in Tibet. Raven hadn't seen her fly in _months_, in fact, now that she thought about it; she had barely _seen_ her in months. The two would occasionally pass in the corridor, and Starfire would eat with them sometimes, although her appetite was a fraction of what it had been, but their interaction was a pittance compared to before. Starfire no longer tried to persuade the group to partake of some dubious delicacy, or celebrate some esoteric Tameranean festival. She spent most of her time in her room, or sitting listlessly on the sofa.

Raven wanted to help her, but years of emotional repression had taken their toll, and she felt woefully undereqipped to provide some comfort. Cyborg seemed not to notice anything, and if he did, he would probably wait for Starfire to come to him, rather than risk taking her out of her comfort zone. In the past, Raven felt that she could rely on Changeling in this kind of situation; although she would never admit this aloud, his technique of harassing people until they admitted their problems, whereupon he would embark on a ridiculous crusade to cheer them up, was far more effective than she had ever let on.

Unfortunately, he seemed just as helpless as her in this situation, though not through want of trying. Of all the Titans, he had the most contact with the alien princess, usually simply because he was impossible to lose. When trying to talk to her had failed, he had taken to simply following Starfire around in the form of a cat whenever she left her room. This had proved, by Raven's low standards, mildly successful, in that Starfire would occasionally acknowledge his presence with a small smile, or some similar token.

Raven stood, filled with a sudden determination. She would go to Starfire and try to lift her out of her melancholy. She knew full well that she was almost certainly doomed to failure, but that was no reason not to try.

Of course, at that precise moment, the room was filled with blazing red light, as the alert went off for the first time in over a year.

--

"Any word on what's wrong?" Raven asked as Cyborg piloted the T-Car through the early evening streets.

"Nope. Just that it's some disturbance on fifth- ah. Here we are." With that, he pulled over to the kerbside and the Titans disembarked. Cyborg's right arm slid into his cannon as the Titans ran to the manned police barricade. Prepared to face some new monster, or perhaps a hostage situation, what they saw stopped them dead.

Protesters. Hundreds upon hundreds of protesters, most of them students. The nearest drew back in the face of the superheroes, but one stood her ground, and hefted her sign defiantly.

It read 'Who voted for Superman?'

Emboldened by this, many rallied around her, shouting incoherently, waving myriad signs and banners.

Elections Now!

Cyborg stared at the young protester whose example the others were following. She coolly stared back.

Vote for Democracy!

She had a dark tan, with long, dark brown hair and full lips. Cyborg couldn't escape the feeling that she was _achingly _familiar.

Rights for Prisoners!

She held his gaze, posture defiant, goading him on.

Restore _Habeas Corpus_!

Cyborg's hand twitched.

Who voted for Superman?

Changeling was the first to break ranks.

Raven followed, ignoring the startled cries from all around her. Starfire was next, walking sedately. Cyborg took one last look at the figure he could almost recognise and followed his teammates. He ignored the distressed shouts of the police sergeant ringing in his ears, and the triumphant bellows of the protesters as he followed his team back to the car.

--

"So. Now what do we do?" Raven spoke first as the car pulled away.

Changeling answered. "Well, we can't stay here, that's for sure. Remember what happened to Green Arrow?"

No one needed to say it. They all remembered.

When the Justice Lords had come to Star City, the politically motivated Oliver Queen was having none of it. So he had started a resistance that had lasted a glorious three weeks; until Superman had gotten involved. Speedy had reported that Queen had been lucky to only lose one arm. Soon after, Titans East had collapsed, with Roy going with Green Arrow into hiding, Garth returning to Atlantis, and the twins going back to Mexico. There was no word on what had happened to Karen.

"But where _do_ we go?" Cyborg asked.

Starfire looked up. "Raven, do you think you can locate Richard?"

"I... yes." Now was not the time for 'maybe'.

Starfire smiled, a genuine smile for the first time in what seemed like years.

--

"Now, give me a little peace, and I'll try to locate him."

Cyborg nodded, and left for his room. Changeling followed.

"Dude, I thought of a problem."

"What?"

"Well, the T-Car's great and all, but, it's a little...noticeable, don't ya think?"

Cyborg grinned. "Oh, I got it all figured out. On that note, take these through to the main room." Here he handed Changeling a small box.

"What's in here?"

"Disguises."

--

Raven's eyes flicked open just as Changeling and Cyborg re-entered the room.

"I've found him. He's in Bludhaven."

"Alright, we've got a destination." Cyborg was about to continue when he suddenly started to grin uncontrollably. Raven and Changeling noticed what he was looking at too, and nodded and beamed respectively.

Starfire was floating.

"Anyway, everyone take a ring." They all did so. "Now, these are a lot less complex than my custom one, but they _will_ make you look totally different." To illustrate this point, Changeling put his on. His form instantly changed to look like a balding, rotund older man in a grey suit. When he caught sight of himself in the polished back of the oven, he screamed slightly.

"Now, it's not perfect, so you can't go faster than a jog, and if the hologram's smaller than you normally are, then there's gonna be kind of a heat haze effect, but it's the best I could do."

"These shall work wonderfully, Cyborg," Starfire assured, and punctuated this by putting on her own, which made her look like a fourteen-year old girl with strawberry-blonde hair.

Raven shrugged, and slipped hers on. Her form flickered, to be replaced by a tall, black haired woman with high cheekbones.

Changeling nodded. "Alright, but what about the car?"

--

"It's a _Skoda_? Cy, do you have no pride?"

Cyborg shrugged. "Who would suspect _that _of being the T-Car? Only problem is, if I go over seventy the hologram will give out."

"Which is the speed limit _anyway_, so that won't be a problem, will it?" Raven said pointedly.

"No ma'am," Cyborg said, cowed. "Now let's go."

--

Late that night, the protesters were celebrating their perceived victory, in the traditional manner of students.

"Dude, where's that," here the inebriated student snapped his fingers in the traditional rite of recollection "Sarah chick? I mean, this is practically her party. She was, you know, the hero of the day, kinda."

"I dunno, man. She just, wandered off somewhere."

"Dude."

"Yeah."

Unnoticed by any of the revellers, a young, tanned woman slipped into an alleyway, in part masked by the gathering and unseasonable fog. A few moments later, an equally unnoticed man stepped out of the fog and adjusted his fedora. Looking up at the lighted apartment, where the party was in full swing, he put his hands in the deep pockets of his dark blue trenchcoat and quietly sang along with the song blaring from the festivity as he ambled off into the mist.

"_Shape shifting high, and a haunted eye; falling plastic and paper demons. No trace of time, __I'm branded sly, I am your ghost master; baby free me..."_

**--**

**I don't own Rob Zombie. I don't even **_**like**_** Rob Zombie.**


	7. The theme song will not be written by

**Chapter Seven: The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb.**

Dick liked Bludhaven, although he wasn't sure why.

Perhaps it was because it reminded him of Gotham. Perhaps it was because even the Justice Lords had failed to clean it up. Perhaps it was because it was the only port in Lords' storm.

Whatever the reason, he was fairly happy here, at least by the current standard of "happy" for people in his situation, which was one step above "not under active investigation".

He and Tim were living in a spacious loft apartment, which he kept under a pseudonym as a precaution. He'd started to rent the place some years ago, as a last resort. Now he was glad he had.

Unfortunately, while he and Tim were undisturbed in their new existence, their status meant that they had to take precautions to ensure that they remained undisturbed. Neither left the apartment unless they absolutely had to, which wasn't often. On the plus side, this meant that they had lots of free time, and they didn't have to worry too much about the Lords finding them.

Cabin Fever, however, was fast becoming a serious concern. Tim, having at last tired of the GameStation, seemed to have taken up the new hobby of seeing exactly how far up the wall he could drive Dick, and was fast becoming adept at it.

--

"Dick."

"What," Dick spat through heavy breaths.

"I'm bored," Tim whined, although he couldn't suppress a grin.

"Then do something."

"But there's nothing to _do_."

"Then do nothing. Now stop bothering me, I'm training."

"You've been training for _hours_."

"I've got to keep in shape. Now go away." Dick accentuated his comment with a flurry of kicks to a hapless dummy.

"But I've already _done_ everything in this place. I've watched every movie at least three times, even your crappy ones-"

"They're not crappy," Dick responded before he could stop himself.

"Excuse me? Your taste in comedies is _terrible_. I mean, 'The Big Lebowski?' It's ass-numbingly boring."

"Just because Jim Carey is your idea of highbrow-"

The world was spared further repartee by the chiming of the doorbell. Dick was instantly alert, spinning on his heel towards the door and pulling a birdarang out of his belt. Tim unfolded a bo staff, and edged towards the doorway.

"I'm gonna go ahead and guess you didn't order pizza."

Dick shook his head, and padded through to the doorway. Peering through the peephole, his eyes rested on a young girl, probably early teens, with red-blonde hair. Cautiously, he opened the door a fraction.

What he had intended to be an acceptably paranoid one sixth instead turned out to be closer to one hundred and eighty degrees as the door was yanked open, and before Dick knew quite what was going on, he found himself barreled to the floor and embraced by the young girl. As he struggled to get up he saw several indistinct figures moving towards them and his panic sense went into overdrive. Frantically, he tried to push his assailant off him, but she seemed incongruously strong.

_The Martian_.

Trying desperately to think non-revolutionary thoughts, he decided to act casual, at least until he was standing again.

He cleared his throat. "Do I know you?"

"Oh!" the girl exclaimed, and fiddled with something he couldn't see. After a moment, the stranger's features flickered, to be replaced with someone far more familiar.

After a few minutes, Dick vaguely heard someone cough in Victor's voice.

"Yo, do you wanna cut it out? You're corrupting the kid."

"No, no, dude, this is interesting. I wanna see how long he lasts before he needs to breathe again. Anyone got a stopwatch?"

An exasperated sigh. "We might as well get our stuff in. See if you can squeeze past, those two will be busy for a while."

--

It was much later that evening that Dick found himself alone in the training room.

The high of reunion had faded, away from his friends, and now he was forcing himself to face up to the question that he had been dogged by for almost a year now.

What was his next move? Before, he could have justified his inaction with the reasonable point that it had been just him and Tim, and no matter how talented the boy was (and there was no doubt about that) it had been two mortals against the full force of the Justice Lords. But now, with the reunited Titans, he had a viable fighting force, especially with the ace in the hole he had snagged before leaving Wayne Manor.

Did he continue to stay here, in virtual exile? It was certainly not impossible. Sleeping arrangements were a little awkward; he and Star had a room (duh), Cyborg and Tim had a room (separate beds, thankfully), and Raven and Changeling had a room (after a fashion; Raven barely needed sleep, and when she did she slept on the sofa. Changeling, as often as not, slept _under_ the sofa), but were not unbearable (certainly not from his point of view, at least).

Dick could read his friends well, and could guess what they would do. Raven wouldn't want to take any action unless it had been properly thought out beforehand, and Dick agreed. Gar was torn between itching for some activity and nurturing a healthy dread of the Lords. Victor seemed to be one step away from a full-blown revolutionary and as for Starfire...

Starfire was not happy with the Lords.

Ultimately, though, the decision rested with him. All of them would trust implicitly in his judgment, that whatever he decided would be the right course of action. The idea terrified him.

It had been far simpler when the world had ended. Then, the choice had been simple. Fight, even if the fight had been impossible, simply because he had nothing left to lose. Now he had everything to lose.

And what would he gain, even if they won? He was not so naive to assume that everyone would come out a revolution unscathed, or even alive. Would the Titans just become a successor to the Lords? After all, both had nothing but the best of intentions, and everyone knew which road they paved.

Shaking his head, he left the room, searching for company. The choice was impossible.

It might have comforted him- then again, it might not- to know that in a few days, the choice would be made for him.

**--**

**Aargh. This chapter was like pulling teeth. It's later than usual because I kept trying to find ways to make it longer without increasing the content. The result was ridiculously hyperbolic, and in the end I just cut it down again. Next chapter should be up by Saturday.**


	8. The revolution will not be right back

**Chapter Eight:**** The revolution will not be right back after a message.**

Jinx warily looked at the envelope, and wondered what she should do.

For the last year, Jinx had been constantly on the move. She'd learned quickly to stay away from the cities; the new militant police force would invariably recognize her sooner or later, and she would have to fight or run. So far, she had always run, and had never been caught yet. She would have liked to believe that her continued escapes were down to her natural talent, but she wasn't that deluded.

However, escaping, of course, had brought new problems. She had always been a city girl at heart. Camping was fairly high on her "definition of Hell" list. Of course, so was being hounded by Military Police.

Her first night in the woods, it had rained (of course), and she had had nothing but the clothes she stood up in (of course), and after a few pitiful attempts to light a fire, she had simply lain down and tried to sleep, certain that she would have contracted hypothermia before the night was out.

The next morning, she found a waterproof bag at her feet. After a few minutes deliberation, she opened it. Inside had been a sleeping bag, a change of clothes (and she did _not_ want to know how her mystery benefactor had gotten her exact size), a flashlight and a packet of sandwiches.

She had waited two days before eating the sandwiches, by which point she didn't care if they were poisoned. They had been hideously stale by that point, but she hadn't cared.

The next day, she had found a kerosene heater and a thermos of soup when she woke up.

That night, she had stayed up all night, determined to confront her charitable ghost. No one had shown up, but when she had fallen asleep in the middle of the day, she had woken to find more provisions near her.

At first, she had thought she was going crazy, a kind of lunatic _deja vu. _After all, this had been exactly the same trick that Wally had pulled, right after she had quit the HIVE 5. Of course, he had always been a lot louder. After a while, she had stopped thinking that. It hadn't helped any, and she _still_ couldn't think about Wally for too long with out tearing up a little.

But now, a year after her disorganized escape into the wilderness, something had changed. Instead of the customary food parcels, there was a slim envelope. After a short time spent deliberating, she opened it.

Inside were several hundred dollars in loose bills, and a card. She turned the card over, and saw an address for a property in Bludhaven.

A year ago, she would have dismissed this as an obvious trap. But a year of complete solitude had taken its toll, and (although she would never admit it) she needed some kind of human contact, or else she'd go crazy. With that in mind, she set off, leaving everything she couldn't fit into her bag, and headed off to find a bus stop.

--

It felt strange to be back in a city after so long, and even stranger to be back in an artificial structure. When Jinx entered the elevator and selected the correct floor, she found herself assaulted by a sense of claustrophobia that she fought down with some difficulty. Eventually, the doors slid open, and Jinx stepped into the hallway.

_This is a mistake, this is a mistake_. The phrase echoed in her head to the rhythm of her footsteps as she neared the door. She raised her right hand to knock, and her left curled into a snap, just in case. Steeling her resolve, she rapped thrice on the door and waited.

She didn't hear anyone walk up to the other side, but suddenly she heard a quick intake of breath that almost sent her scurrying down the hallway, and series of clicks and ratchets heralded the opening of many locks. The door was flung open, and a familiar voice exclaimed "Jinx?"

It was a reflex. She was wound like a spring, and the tension had to snap _somewhere_. So when a loud voice shouted her name from within a building she had associated with so many ominous ideas, it was no great surprise that the first thing she did was hex him into a wall.

"Oh, shit," she breathed, recognising the crumpled heap. "_Beast Boy_?"

A green arm rose. "Changeling, actually. You're a couple of years behind the times." He seemed in good spirits, in spite of the fact that his velocity had actually left a dent in the hallway. "Come on in," he offered, as he got to his feet, wobbling slightly.

As she made her way in, his nose wrinkled reflexively. "No offence, Jinx, but you could really use a shower."

--

"...and that's all I know. I didn't get any information out of her while she was running for the bathroom."

Nightwing nodded. "And this was when?"

"About two hours ago, now."

"And where is she now?"

"Dude, don't your ears work? She's still in the shower."

Raven blinked. "Two _hours_? Isn't that a little excessive?"

Gar shook his head. "You didn't smell her. It looked like she'd been living in the woods or something."

"Got it in one, greeny." Jinx's head appeared from around the bathroom door. "Does anyone have some clothes I could borrow? My stuff's a little ripe."

--

Red on grey. Red flames leaping up from below her, grey stone all around her, a low grey ceiling, a burning stone pathway below her feet, red eyes on the wall...

Huh?

Red on grey. Red marks on grey skin. Red symbols on ash grey flesh. Red words on washed-out parchment.

Raven?

Red on grey. Red water on grey hands. Red liquid staining her bare skin and arms. Blood on her hands.

Raven, are you alright?

Red on grey. Red shapes littering the path. Red bodies. Dead bodies. Dead friends.

Raven, seriously, you're scaring me.

Red on grey. A red giant in grey armour, come to claim his own. A red hand, reaching through grey smog. A red demon, picking up a grey girl. Red father and grey daughter.

Rae, you gotta wake up!

Red on grey. Red points of light, arranged in a square. Four red almonds on a grey girl. Four red eyes on a grey forehead.

Wake up!

Red on grey. A grey city, engulfed in an inferno.

_A predawn view through a window, with a soft orange light reflected in the glass._

A huge pair of eyes, looming down on her.

_A brilliant forest green, alight with concern._

Billowing, twisting, curling

_steam from a proffered mug in his hands._

"Rae, it's alright, sshh, calm down, it's alright." Beast Boy's tone more than his words were what calmed Raven from her terror. It was soothing and measured and made you want to believe every word he said.

"A nightmare?" She didn't answer, but she didn't need to. "Here. Got you some tea."

She drank it. He obviously had no idea how to prepare tea, but that was last on her mind at the moment. She brought her knees up, and Changeling took the unworded invitation and sat.

After she finished, she spoke. "What time is it?"

"About four thirty."

"What are you doing up?"

Gar coughed. "Well, things started rattling. I thought it might have been a poltergeist, but..." his voice trailed into nothing.

"Oh." There's nothing more to say, really.

"Yeah." A pause, long enough for her heart to beat, although it wouldn't be normally.

"So...anything you wanna talk about?"

"No. It was just a nightmare. They happen."

"Okay." He stood, and, in a fit of daring, put a hand on her shoulder. "But if you ever need to talk, I'm here, you know that?"

Strangely, she didn't reflexively stiffen at the abrupt contact, and she marvelled at this before she laid a hand tentatively on his outstretched forearm.

Gar stood blinking at Raven's strange behaviour. She looked like she was bout to say something when her grip on his arm became a vice.

"Ow...hurting..."

Raven let go with a start.

"...wah?"

Raven locked his gaze to hers. "They're here."

--

"Oh fuck." Dick was instantly alert when Changeling had burst into his room at four in the morning, and had started pulling on his costume the moment the situation had been explained to him.

"Rae thinks they were tailing Jinx."

Starfire sat up. "Does she know how long they will be?"

"I'm gonna guess it's not gonna be long."

--

The entire group gathered in the living room, listening to Raven.

"About ten minutes ago, I felt the Martian attempt to probe my mind. I was able to repel him, but not before he noticed my presence. He's probably not alone."

Nightwing instantly took the floor. "Raven, can you shield us all from him?"

After a moment, she nodded. "The Martian is nothing more than a talented amateur in this business. As long as you all stay near, it shouldn't be a problem."

Cyborg spoke up. "But that doesn't stop them from following us with more traditional methods."

Nightwing didn't answer, but instead turned back to Raven. "Can you see how many there are?"

"One moment." Her eyes flashed white. "Three. The Lantern and Hawkgirl are with him."

Nightwing nodded thoughtfully. "Right. Everyone get a disguise, and go by the fire exit. I'll catch up with you."

Robin looked sceptical. "And what will _you _be doing?"

"I'm gonna try to incapacitate the Martian; that way he can't track me and it'll give the others something else to worry about until we're far away."

Predictably, that statement resulted in uproar, but Nightwing was only listening to one person.

"Not alone, you shall not."

He blinked, and Starfire smiled lightly.

"I only just found you again. I do not plan to let you go so easily."

"I'm staying too."

"_What_?" Raven's head snapped around to Changeling, aghast. He ignored her.

"I presume you'll want to find everyone once you're done? I can track everyone down."

Nightwing nodded. "Alright, but no one else. Now let's get moving."

--

The Lords had just touched down when the three Titans appeared from the apartment building. The two sides squared off in the middle of the street.

"We're not your enemies, kid," Green Lantern said, his face illuminated by his power ring. "Not unless you want us to be. Just back off and we can talk this over."

Nightwing's voice was hard. "There's only one thing left to say.

"Titans, GO!"

--

**I was **_**so**_** close to making this bit a BB/Jinx, in part because I love crack pairings, and in part to mess with your collective head. But, since I put BB/Rae in my summary, you get a bit here. Don't expect much more soon.**


	9. The revolution will not go better with

**Chapter Nine: The revolution will not go better with Coke.**

"Titans, GO!"

The three surged forwards, but the Lords were already moving. The Green Lantern threw a glowing cage around an emerald tiger, but his opponent slipped between the bars as a gnat. Nightwing vaulted on a Bo staff directly into the path of Hawkgirl and slammed a foot into her face. She reeled, but countered with a blow from her mace that sent him spinning backwards. As he collapsed onto the concrete, she stepped forwards to push the offensive, but before she could so much as raise her mace, Starfire barrelled towards her, screaming an alien war cry. Hawkgirl snarled, and hefted her weapon in preparation for the warrior princess.

The two met. The air blurred.

--

It was an awkward group that made their way down the back streets of Bludhaven.

That in itself was strange. Before the Lords had hijacked the country; ambling through the alleyways of Bludhaven, even in the middle of the day, was officially classed as suicide. Even now, you would have to be insane or insanely confident to walk without fear.

These people did not seem to fit with either archetype. There was an old man in a cardigan, a nondescript woman in a black sweater, a scrawny teenage boy, and a six year old girl. They were adopting the traditional Bludhaven Back-Alley Walk, which consisted of walking as quickly as they could without actually breaking into anything as conspicuous as a run. The strange, waddling shuffle this produced was, of course, very conspicuous indeed.

What was unique about this group was the fact that they were relatively undisturbed. Would-be criminals would find themselves tripping over their own feet, or walk straight into walls of absolute darkness. A couple got as far as pulling out switchblades, which would invariably fail to open, and one lucky mugger even managed to pull a gun on the group, although it jammed when he actually tried to use it.

After a short while, the party reached the outskirts of town, where they sat and rested for a few moments. They were about to move on when they suddenly stopped short at the sight of a blue-and white clad figure with black hair.

--

Changeling ducked as Green Lantern swung a pillar of light at his head. To his left, Nightwing was tangling with the Martian, and he could hear the shrieks from overhead, and the occasional feather flitting down on him that told him that Starfire and Hawkgirl were duking it out overhead.

He didn't envy Nightwing. Not at _all_.

Still, he thought as he sprang forward to avoid a hammer that smashed the pavement, this wasn't exactly his idea of a good time.

_Stop! We do not want to hurt you!_

The voice resonated in Nightwing's head as he swiped wildly at the incorporeal figure with his staff. Still, he couldn't contain a smirk, and a quip flicked out, born of habit.

"Oh don't worry. You won't."

Hawkgirl spun and twisted in a vain attempt to shake the Tameranean. Shayera had heard of Starfire, of course, and by all accounts she had seemed open, friendly, and almost childlike in her innocence. The fiery warrior princess she was facing now seemed distinctly incongruous.

She swung her mace at the princess, but Starfire leant backwards and snatched the weapon by its handle. She flashed Hawkgirl a mirthless smile before dropping the weapon from the sky.

Changeling thundered forwards, his horn probing the air as he lumbered towards his target. His breath came in snorts as he accelerated, but at the last second the Green Lantern smoothly floated into the air.

Damnit, Green Lantern can fly, you _idiot_.

He shifted out of rhino, and was suddenly sealed in a green bubble. He scowled at the smug face of his captor while his mind raced.

Think, Gar, think. Rae always says you've got a brain in there somewhere, and it wouldn't be nice to prove the pretty girl wrong now, would it?

Suddenly, he had it. With a grin to his opponent, he concentrated and disappeared.

Confused, Lantern dropped the bubble and stepped forward. As he reached the spot where Changeling had vanished, something huge and hairy grabbed him from behind and slammed him face first into the pavement.

Nightwing snarled in frustration as the Martian smoothly dodged another attack. So far, his opponent had not tried anything offensive, still pleading for a diplomatic resolution, but that couldn't last for much longer.

_No. It can not. If you will not listen to reason..._

The Martian caught Nightwing's Bo in one hand and snapped it in one smooth movement.

Nightwing swore, but only internally. He didn't have the breath to waste, and he was fairly sure that Hawkgirl's mace had cracked a rib or two.

An idea welled up, like a black bubble from a swamp. It was nasty and it was underhanded and from the way the Martian's eyes widened Nightwing could tell he'd heard it, but he couldn't see any other way. As the Martian opened his mouth to shout a warning, Nightwing put his plan into action.

"Star! Switch!"

Starfire tumbled down towards the Martian, who leapt back to avoid a hail of starbolts. As Nightwing leapt up, Starfire grabbed him and hurled him skywards, directly towards Hawkgirl. She swung, but he was ready for it, twisting in midair and ending up landing on her back. Trying not to think about what he was about to do, he grabbed one of her wings in both hands and kicked, managing not to shudder as he felt her bones shift beneath his hands.

Changeling winced when he heard the shriek, but it was nothing compared to Lantern's reaction.

--

Cyborg blinked. He recognised that face. She had dyed her hair and she wasn't in uniform, but it would take more than that to fool his sensors, and her face was a perfect match for her i.d. photo.

"Supergirl?"

She started. "What?" Looking around, she saw no one else. "Who, me? Nope, I'm just Kara Kent. No Supergirl here, no siree."

Cyborg rolled his eyes. "You've dyed your hair and changed your clothes. You really thought that could fool someone like _me_?"

Supergirl blinked carefully. "Yes...because you appear to be a six year old girl."

It was Cyborg's turn to stare blankly. Eventually understanding dawned.

"Logan's a dead man."

--

"_Shayera!"_

Nightwing stood awkwardly. He and Hawkgirl had fallen to the ground, and while she had taken the brunt of the landing, he had been left more than a little disorientated.

This was not a good thing when vengeful supermen are out for your blood.

Green Lantern careered into him, wielding a glowing sickle that would have separated his head from his shoulders, had Changeling not taken advantage of Lantern's understandable distraction to get the drop on him. Literally.

Gar looked up. "Time we weren't here!"

Nightwing nodded, and Starfire swooped in and snatched him up as she flew by, Gar leaping onto his shoulder as a squirrel. Yellow power blasting a contrail behind her, Starfire flew upwards into the clouds.

**--**

**I'm back from holiday, and thus I give you a fight scene, and not all that much else.**


	10. The revolution will put you in the

**Chapter Ten: The revolution **_**will**_** put you in the driver's seat.**

A few minutes judicious snuffling from Changeling's unnatural sense of smell combined with Starfire's turn of speed found the three on the outskirts of town. Nightwing stared blankly out across the view, wondering what that rope line meant.

Ah. The Lords, before he had left, had been discussing the possibility of walling off Bludhaven, wretched hive of scum and villainy that it was. Looked like that idea had taken hold.

Gar's head swayed back and forth, his nostrils flared, his tongue occasionally flicking out, tasting the air. Nightwing shuddered and looked the other way. It was still unnerving when he did things like that.

"That way, about half a mile," he announced after a moment, and extended an arm. The other two nodded and followed him, keeping an eye out for any witnesses. It was early, still about five, but it didn't pay to take any more chances than they had to.

--

The rest of the group had simultaneously decided to wait for the others. It hadn't been a conscious decision; everyone had just stopped on meeting Supergirl, and no one had started walking again yet. In the respite, Jinx sidled up to the newcomer.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Jinx wondered how she was going to make her question sound casual, but decided not to bother after a little deliberation.

"Just wondering; isn't it _hugely_ coincidental that you just _happened _to be here exactly at the right time to run in to us? I mean, I'm no statistician, but I'm pretty sure the odds of that happening are at _least_ Lots to one." She was trying to sound non-accusatory, and failing miserably.

Kara chuckled slightly. "Well, you probably won't believe me, but there was this guy-"

"Black suit, blue coat, blue fedora? Lots of mist like a cheap stage effect?" Jinx snapped.

"Yeah. You've met?"

Jinx's eyes narrowed. "You could say that. Go on."

"Anyway, I was coming back from a night out in Smallville-" she paused as Jinx scoffed. "-thank you, believe it or not it _is_ possible to have a good night life outside of the big cities-"

"What, cow tipping?"

"Look, do you want to hear this story or not?" She waited a few seconds for a response, then nodded primly. "Anyway, I was walking home, when suddenly this deep mist rolls in and this guy walks up behind me. He sneaked up on me. Me!" She seemed unnerved by this.

"So what did you do?"

"What came naturally. I hit him in the jaw. And he took it. Didn't flinch, didn't even _move_. Just started talking, in that creepy voice of his."

"And what did he say?"

"I...I'm not sure." Kara frowned. "I can't remember. He left after a while, and I remember going back to my room and doing some serious thinking about what Cl- Superman was doing, but..." Kara was clearly troubled by the hole in her memory, and Jinx didn't look thrilled either. She continued nonetheless. "About a week later pretty much the same thing happened again, except this time he told me, and I quote: 'Should you decide to take any kind of anti-authoritarian action, you will not be alone, should you decide to head for Bludhaven. There are others there, but they will not remain for much longer. I suggest, if you leave, it will be sooner rather than later.' That night, I left. That was yesterday."

Jinx nodded, as if things were becoming clearer. "I see. Thanks."

"Why'd you ask?"

Jinx shrugged. "Just trying to get everything mapped out, that's all."

Kara nodded in understanding. "Seeing a pattern?"

"Hmm?" Jinx looked up, distracted from her thoughts.

"I said, seeing a pattern yet?"

"Maybe," Jinx responded indifferently.

Kara didn't look satisfied, and would probably have continued prodding, had Cyborg not announced that the others were about to arrive.

--

Cyborg nodded as the rest of the Titans landed beside him, and spoke.

"So. What's the plan?"

Changeling stifled a laugh at the sound of Cyborg's baritone emanating from a tiny Caucasian girl. Cyborg merely scowled in response.

Nightwing shrugged. "I guess we get our rings on and-"

"No can do," Cyborg retorted. "We're all out."

"Oh." Nightwing looked at his undisguised teammates. "Perhaps a change of clothes?"

A man with Robin's voice spoke up. "Where? We all just...ran. I don't even have my wallet."

Nightwing pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "Well, there goes that plan."

"What _was _your plan?" a woman that sounded like Raven asked.

"I was thinking of heading to Gotham."

"_What?_"

Nightwing's eyes flashed to the newcomer. "Who's this?"

She stepped forward and extended her hand. "Supergirl."

Nightwing tensed, and shook her hand _very _reluctantly, eyes narrowed behind his mask.

"Yes. Gotham. The Lords are done with the place, and it would have been the best place to implement the Plan. But I guess that's out of the picture now."

At that, everyone began exchanging glances. Eventually, Gar spoke up.

"'Plan'? You gonna explain that?"

"Yes, but not here. We've got to get away from the city, and fast."

"Yippee. More camping," Jinx sighed theatrically.

--

Four and a half hours saw the party in a small clearing in a wood upriver of Bludhaven, where it was judged that they could stop. Nightwing sat on the half rotted carcass of a tree while the others made themselves comfortable on the ground, or, in Changeling's case, up a tree.

"Right." Nightwing cleared his throat nervously, and ran his fingers through his long hair. "You want to know about the Plan.

"I came up with the Plan a while after Robin and I escaped to Bludhaven, just in case we ever decided to take action.

The Plan is quite simple, so there are fewer things that can go wrong. We would sneak into Gotham, and take down Batman. I know for a fact that he's hardly ever on the Watchtower, and doesn't live up there like the rest of them. Sooner or later the others will want to know what's happened to him, and will send someone down to investigate. We take them out too. Eventually, we'll have to have a pitched battle, but hopefully by then they should be down two or even three members. Any questions?"

Raven cleared her throat. "Just one. _Are_ we going to take action?"

Gar answered. "Well, it doesn't look like we've got much of a choice. I mean,_ I_ could probably live out here quite happily, but I don't think Cy could say the same. But, 'Wing, you'd better have something to take down Supes with, that's all I'm gonna say."

Nightwing smirked, and a hand snaked to his belt. "I've got an ace in the hole."

Gar covered his eyes and nearly fell off his branch. "_Dude_! Do _not_ need to see that!"

Nightwing looked confused as he pulled out a box from his utility belt. He popped it open, and Kara instantly hissed and recoiled.

"Kryptonite," Nightwing explained, somewhat unnecessarily, as he pulled out the ring and stared at the glowing green rock adorning it. "Superman gave it to Batman years ago. I snagged it before I left."

Robin's eyes widened. "He's gotta know you have it."

Nightwing nodded. "And yet he hasn't done anything about it. Curiouser and curiouser." He shook his head. "So. That is what we shall do. Agreed?"

Seven heads nodded.

Nightwing, in spite of himself, smiled.

--

The rest of the day was spent in inactivity. There was the sporadic attempt at small talk, but most of the time was spent in silent acclimatisation to their new role.

Of all of them, only Jinx had any real anti-authoritarian streak, and even that had been tamed in recent years. Nightwing didn't count, as he had a very specific anti-Batman streak. Eventually, night fell, and everyone simply lay down where they sat, Changeling still up in his tree. No one had brought anything except the clothes they stood up in, and the only admission to a campsite they had made was a fire in the middle of the clearing.

Nightwing stared into the fire, having taken first watch.

"Richard?"

Nightwing looked up to the source of the voice. She looked concerned.

"You seem troubled. Are you hurt?"

He shook his head. "No, Rae did a good job fixing my ribs."

"Then what is wrong?"

Nightwing was about to brush her off, to tell her that he was fine, but he caught himself. Emotional openness was not something that came easily to him, but he would try, for Starfire. For Starfire, anything was worth it.

"It's about the fight this morning," he said softly.

"What of it? We were victorious, were we not?"

"It doesn't feel like it. I'm not proud of what I did then?"

Starfire frowned, confused. "What do you mean? You incapacitated the Thanagarian and assured our victory."

Nightwing shook his head. "I didn't simply incapacitate her. I coulda simply knocked her out, but I snapped her wing instead. I knew that would hurt her enough to put her out of it completely, and I knew that seeing her hurt would put Lantern off his game, and I knew that would mean the Martian's first priority would be to look after his teammates. I manipulated them all, and the Thanagarian will probably never fly again."

Starfire shook her head. "You did what you had to do."

"Did I? We've never done things that way. We've always tried to play by some kind of rules, never inflicted lasting harm if we could. We're fighting like them."

"Some might say that was justified. If we are fighting an enemy that has no scruples, then, as the idiom goes, we must fight fire with fire."

Nightwing shook his head. He knew where that road led; to an orange and black suit and green-eyed monsters and skull-faced masks. "I don't think we can do that. We'll just turn into the thing we're fighting." His voice softened. "Go to sleep Star, I'll be okay."

She leant over and kissed him, before treading over to a patch of earth and lying down. Nightwing watched her sleep for a while, and so didn't notice the sudden fog.

"Mr. Grayson."

Nightwing span, birdarang in hand, before he registered who he was seeing.

"Oh. What do you want?"

The figure chuckled. "Just making sure that you are all well." He started walking around the fire. "And you have a plan. Commendable." He stopped. "When, may I ask, were you planning to put this into action?"

Nightwing furrowed his brow. "I don't see any reason to wait." Every cell in his brain was screaming not to trust this man, but he found himself almost instinctively relaxing his guard.

"Oh? Well, if you would listen to me, I think that I can give you some reasons to delay your plan.

The Lords are out in force right now, looking for you. Wait a week, and they will have lessened their security."

Nightwing shook his head. "Hawkgirl is incapacitated. Now is the best time to strike."

"Really? The Watchtower staff does include metahumans, you know. Including some very powerful healers. I believe that she will be fully recovered within a day."

Nightwing scowled. The man had a point, provided that all he said was true.

"How do you know all of this?"

The man chuckled again, and his eyes flashed white.

"Let's just say I am privy to sources of information that others cannot access."

Nightwing frowned again. "I'll think about it. No promises."

The man nodded. "That is all I ask. Good evening, Mr. Grayson."

As he left, just before he shrouded himself in the mists, he locked his gaze with a pair of pink, slitted eyes, and winked.

**--**

**Only two more chapters to go, folks. And an epilogue, of course.**

**And to Elissar, I know I said Monday, but guess what. I lied. Sorry. At least this one's back up to standard length.**


	11. The revolution will be no rerun, brother

**Chapter Eleven: The revolution will be no rerun, brothers.**

Deep in the woods, there was a new addition to the dawn chorus. A green creature, squatting in one of the trees like a frog.

"And if I close my mind in fear, please pry it o-o-pen. And if my face becomes sincere, bewa-e-a-re. And if I sta-a-rt to come undone, stitch me-e toge-e-ther. And when you see me strut, remind me of what left this outlaw to-o-o-rn."

Changeling's serenading was interrupted by a pair of glowing red eyes attached to a rather attractive girl.

--

Kara Kent was not in a good mood _at all_.

Her cousin (and idol, not that she'd ever told him that) had gone completely off the rails.

She'd left her home without any kind of idea where she was going.

She was on the run, hunted by some of the most powerful beings on the planet.

She was hiding in the woods.

She had no camping equipment.

She had been living off the land for almost a week now, and was finding it poor fare indeed.

She was getting almost no sleep, since she always had a super-powered ear out for potential threats.

And someone was _singing at the crack of dawn_.

_Badly_.

_Someone _was going to have some broken bones.

--

Changeling started and jumped back as Supergirl's irate features materialized inches from his face. Unfortunately, since he was on a branch at the time, this meant that he lost his centre of balance and slowly slipped around the branch until he was hanging upside down like an insane bat, his back to Kara.

"Can I help you?" he asked, twisting his neck so he was looking at her from over his shoulder.

"_Yes_. You can _stop singing_," she hissed at him.

"Oops. Sorry. Didn't think I was loud enough to wake anyone up."

"Yeah. I have super hearing, meathead."

"Oops. Do you mind if I get back upright? All the blood running to my head's making me a little woozy."

Without waiting for an answer he scrabbled his way around the branch until he was the right way up again. When he saw her still fuming at him, he grinned.

This annoyed her, as he had no doubt intended. "What're you smirking about?"

He shrugged, which (since his hands were occupied keeping him latched to his perch) actually consisted of him moving his torso down as opposed to his shoulders up.

"It's a nice day, I guess."

Supergirl snorted. "That's it?" Shaking her head, she continued. "And what's with the early rising, anyway? From what I heard, you're more of a crack-of-noon type."

He shrugged bizarrely again. "I guess the surroundings agree with me." His eyes unfocussed, for reasons unknown to Kara, and a grin tugged at his lips. "I could probably live out here, no problems."

Kara scowled as she realized he was probably right. Out of all of them, he looked by far the happiest after a week in the wilderness. After all, he was the only one who went to bed with a full stomach at night, and the only one who could actually _sleep_. Bastard.

A thought occurred to her. "How come you're clean? I mean, compared to the rest of us."

Another grin, which by now was getting _really_ irritating.

"Hey, 'snot my fault none of you can bathe in the stream properly."

Kara shot him a look of pure, unadulterated hate.

--

Cyborg's eye flicked open, and what he saw depressed him.

Sixty-five percent.

He hadn't recharged since he had left the tower, nearly a month ago. At fifty per cent, his body would start cutting off the less vital systems, starting with his weapons.

He didn't want to think about the possibility of going up against the Lords with anything less than all guns blazing.

--

Raven mumbled her way to consciousness. She sorely missed caffeine, among other things.

She hoped that they weren't going to have to live out here much longer. In spite of Changeling's diligent efforts in the field of food procurement, for which everyone was grateful, she felt she could have lived without knowing what bear tasted like.

--

Robin sat up and stretched. He'd always assumed that being a revolutionary would be more..._grand_, more exciting and big and, well, revolutionary.

So far all they'd done was retreat into the wilderness and hide.

_Well, it worked for Che Guevara, didn't it?_

--

Jinx had been awake for some time, fuming at her leader (and that idea still left a foul taste in her mouth; she had never been one for following orders). He had followed the stranger's advice blindly, trustingly, _foolishly_.

Jinx had never been particularly trusting, but then she had never been anyone's fool either. She had no doubt the two points were connected.

--

When Starfire woke up, the first thing she saw was Richard's hunched form, sitting in front of the ashes of the fire, sound asleep. She shook her head sadly, realizing he had tried to stay up all night again. A week ago, he had managed it without difficulty. Now was a different story.

She understood his reasoning, of course. He overworked so others could rest. He went without food so his team could eat (and there was barely (bad pun, now she recognized it) enough to go around even then, even with Garfield preferring to graze). Agreeing with his logic, however, was an entirely different story.

--

Nightwing awoke full of determination. He had waited a week, as his mysterious advisor had suggested (and he had spent most of that time trying to figure out exactly _why_ he was doing what the man had suggested, with no success). No longer. It was time.

--

Nightwing stood on a rock tom address his... troops, he supposed. No. His team. Always a team, if not a family.

"So" he began, slightly nervously, "today's the day. We strike back.

"Now, I want everyone to be _completely_ clear about one thing. We're not doing this for ourselves. When" not if; it was too late for doubt now "we win, we're _not_, under _any_ circumstances, taking power ourselves. As soon as we capture the Lords, we lift the state of emergency, and have ourselves an election." He paused, waiting for someone to call on him for the corny phrasing. No one did.

"If anyone disagrees with me, speak up now."

His gaze swept the group, holding each and every one of them for a moment. No one blinked.

"So, it's settled then. We move out in an hour." As the group began to relax, Nightwing coughed. "One more thing."

"I don't know if I'm going to be able to say this later," and that statement brought the reality of what they were about to do crashing down on them "but I'm proud of you. All of you, whether I met you a week ago or I've known you for years. I couldn't ask for better people to fight by my side." He blinked, once, thankful that no one could see him behind the mask. "Now let's do this."

A gloved fist punched the air, and everyone turned to look quizzically at Robin, who shrugged embarrassedly.

"It just seemed appropriately revolutionary, that's all."

With a short splutter of laughter, Changeling's fist smashed into the air, closely followed by Cyborg and Supergirl's. Jinx was next, along with Starfire, who punctuated the action with a light laugh. Even Raven joined in, with enough aplomb to frankly stun Nightwing.

Dick blinked. Then, as a slow smile switched around his stern face, a black-gloved fist soared upwards, and hammered down onto his waiting palm.

**--**

**We're almost there, folks. Still haven't decided how to finish this. If it comes down to it, I'll just toss a coin.**

**And I don't own Metallica. I used that song because it was literally what I had playing at the time. S&M rules.**

**The album, not the sexual practice.**

**Not that there's anything wrong with that, but...not exactly my cup of tea.**


	12. The revolution will be live

**Chapter Twelve: The revolution will be live.**

"_Man, are you sure about this?"_ Cyborg asked for the tenth time.

"Yes," Nightwing lied into his communicator for the tenth time.

"_Well, alright then, but if anything,_ anything_ goes wrong, I want you to tell me."_

Nightwing shook his head. "Yes, _mom_. Are you guys at the perimeter yet?"

"_All set up. You're good to go."_

Nightwing nodded, and flicked his communicator closed. He looked sidelong at Robin, who was double-checking his weapons for the last time.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be, I suppose."

Nightwing nodded. "Let's get this over with, then."

--

Nightwing moved on automatic, circumnavigating the hidden security systems throughout Wayne Manor without thinking. After all, evading them had been a fundamental part of his training.

With his feet doing most of the work for him, his mind was free to wander. It was for this reason that he wished that the security was a bit tighter.

The two had climbed in through an open window on the third floor, and were slowly making their way down to the ground. For the pair of them, it was like being assaulted by a legion of ghosts.

Nightwing slipped down the hallway, past the guest rooms, past the dumb waiter he had once got himself stuck in for three hours, down the flight of stairs he had once broken his arm trying to backflip down, onto the landing, down the main stairway, past the hallway to the kitchen he had been barred from ever since he had got up extra early to try to bake Alfred a birthday cake (with explosive results, and Alfred had taken great pleasure in regaling the young Dick Grayson with tales of how Master Bruce could destroy the kitchen while preparing nothing more than a bowl of cereal and some toast) and down the corridor into the study where he stopped dead in front of the Grandfather clock.

This was it. No going back now (as if there had been any real prospect of _going back_ for some time now, even if there had been any where to go back _to_, apart from the woods). Death or glory. Or maybe both.

For some reason, a thought flitted across Nightwing's mind.

_Children of America, rise up! You have nothing to lose but your frontal lobes!_

Catchy.

Seeing that Nightwing wasn't moving, Robin moved to open the door, but Nightwing activated the hidden portal without a word, and the two slipped forwards, into the darkness.

--

The Batcave's long, sloping stairway had been designed to be hard to conceal yourself on. Sure, one didn't _have_ to take the stairs, but only if you really felt like plummeting to your death.

Besides, if you were in the Batcave, it was a pretty sure bet that Batman knew where you were. With this in mind, neither Nightwing nor Robin concerned themselves too much with stealth.

And there he was, a pillar of granite, standing by his mighty computer, his attention fixed on a strange machine, a rectangle of pulsing energy.

The Batman. Teacher. Leader. Mentor. Father.

Nightwing fought to control his breathing. He could do this.

"You're late," a familiar baritone said, quietly.

Nightwing's grip tightened on his staff.

"What do you mean, _late_?"

"You missed all the excitement." Bruce sounded as calm as ever.

Nightwing and Robin shared brief glances- a stupid mistake, but one they couldn't help making- before looking back at Batman. He hadn't moved.

"_What_ 'excitement'?" Nightwing asked carefully.

Bruce snorted lightly, his version of a rueful chuckle. "Time enough for explanations later. I suggest you prepare yourselves."

Nightwing was about to run out of patience when a black-haired head emerged from the portal.

Things happened quickly from there. Nightwing pulled out the ring and slipped it on his finger as the man's white-clad shoulders became evident. Robin pulled out his communicator as his torso became visible. As he stepped into the world, and other familiar shapes began to follow him, Robin screamed out a warning.

"Guys, they're here! _They're all here!_"

--

"_Guys, they're here! _They're all here!_"_

"Aw, fuck." Cyborg allowed himself the luxury of swearing before charging towards the front door of Wayne Manor, the others at his shoulders. They had all heard the message.

Cyborg hadn't liked this- Nightwing had insisted that no one was going to take down Batman but him and Robin. Sure, he could see _why_ Dick had decided that, but that didn't mean he thought it was a good idea, and had said so repeatedly. Eventually, Dick had pulled rank, and that had been that.

Now? Now everything was shot to hell.

As they approached the main doors, Cyborg didn't slow, instead charging his sonic cannon and blasting them to oblivion without breaking step. The team thundered through the mansion, down the corridor, to the grandfather clock, which Cyborg wrenched off the wall before charging into the darkness behind.

A few minutes later, a black-clad figure ghosted through the mansion, surveying the wrecked doors with a dispassionate eye. When it arrived at the study, it observed the destruction within for a few moments before passing comment.

"Oh my," said Alfred, without a hint of emotion.

--

Nightwing kept his head when Superman appeared in the cave. Without a moment's hesitation, he put on his purloined kryptonite ring and took a swing at Superman's head.

In the second before connection, he wondered what exactly kryptonite would do to Superman.

He hadn't expected the sickening crack that accompanied the blow, nor had he expected Superman to be knocked flat on his back.

Suddenly, Wonder Woman charged for him, swinging her fists like jackhammers. To his astonishment, Nightwing found he could dodge them easily, and a quick blow to the head dispatched her. Beside him, Robin was fighting Green Lantern with equal ease.

_They've got no powers. I don't know what's happened but they've got no powers._

Nightwing allowed himself to feel a flush of victory as the Green Lantern was knocked backwards by Robin's staff, seconds before Hawkgirl's mace slammed into his chest and sent him tumbling across the cave.

--

The Titans burst into the Batcave to find themselves staring at utter bedlam. Robin and Green Lantern were sparring- and Robin was winning easily- Superman and Wonder Woman seemed to be unconscious, Batman was just standing there, the Martian was looking around in confusion, and Hawkgirl-

was standing over Nightwing, a look of fury on her face, preparing to bring her mace down on his semi-conscious head.

Needless to say, this did not go down well with Starfire.

--

Nightwing looked up, through a haze of pain, to see a crackling orb of metal inches from his face. As he watched, it raised into the air, where it hovered for a few seconds.

_I'm going to die._

The realisation cleared his head instantly, and he feebly tried to roll out of the way, but before he had time to move, before Hawkgirl had time to bring her weapon crashing down onto his skull, a green fireball smashed into her, slamming her into thee cavern walls.

He looked up into the glowing face of his saviour, and smiled.

--

Cyborg looked around. It looked like-

"Did we win?" he asked, incredulous hope dripping from every syllable.

"Not quite," someone with Nightwing's voice, and Nightwing's face said, seconds before he shifted.

"Aw, fuck," Cyborg said, for the second time that evening.

He blasted at the Martian with his sonic cannon, but the Martian simply became intangible. He swung a punch, only to have it caught, and his hand was crushed out of shape in a vicelike grip. He tried desperately to escape the Martian's grip, but before he could do anything, the Martian punched him square in the chest, sending him flying.

The Martian retained his grip on Cyborg's arm.

Changeling and Raven attacked in unison, hoping to overwhelm him, but he simply punched Changeling in the head and hurled Raven backwards. Before he could make proper use of this, though, Supergirl was upon him, forcing him backwards with a series of punishing blows. Eventually, he managed to block a swipe, and he smirked at his opponent.

For reasons that would become clear to him in a few moments, she glanced over his shoulder, and smirked right back.

Before he could read her mind, before he could turn around, before he could do anything, he was hit in the back with a column of pure cold. As he turned, he was turned into an icicle.

Jinx tossed Mr. Freeze's gun to one side. "Take _that_, motherfucker."

Supergirl shot her a quizzical look. Jinx shrugged in response.

"I could never get the hang of quips."

Tim looked around. "So...is it over?"

Almost on cue, Superman rose from his crumpled heap. His movements were groggy, and he was clearly dismayed by the destruction around him. After a few false starts, he spoke.

"...Could've been so perfect...paradise..."

As he lumbered towards the assorted heroes, his face turned from confusion to rage.

"They couldn't see the beauty! No imagination! They'd rather fight!"

As he passed Batman, who had remained as still as a statue the entire time, the vigilante gave Superman a quick chop to the neck, rendering him unconscious.

"_Now_ it's over".

**--**

**Wasn't that anti-climactic? Just an epilogue to go now, folks.**


	13. A Handful of Endings

**Chapter Thirteen: A Handful of Endings.**

**The Three Day Epilogue.**

Dick and Bruce sat in the main living room in Wayne Manor. Things had happened quickly- the Lords had been arrested, on the authority of Batman and the President, and within two months there would be an election. The state of emergency had been lifted, and everyone was trying desperately to restore some kind of normality to the country. All that was left for the heroes to do was tie up the loose ends.

"So, you mind telling me what happened back there?"

"Around six months ago, I accidentally managed to get a glimpse of another dimension. It was like ours in every aspect but one: _their_ Luthor never killed the Flash."

Dick's hands tightened around the armrest of his seat, but he said nothing.

"With the Flash still alive, Luthor never ran for President, and Superman never killed him." Bruce stopped, for a second. "It was, in many respects, a better world.

"I spent the next six months building a portal to that dimension. It was easier than I had anticipated, since I had already established some kind of link with them, albeit accidentally."

"Why?" Dick asked. "Why go to all the trouble?"

Bruce sighed. "A number of reasons, but the most basic one is the fact that I hoped that by showing the rest of the Lords this other dimension, with our counterparts, the Justice League; it might force a change of heart in at least _some _of them. I miscalculated. Having had little contact with them for the better part of a year and a half, I didn't anticipate how far they had fallen. You mauling my only potential ally hadn't helped."

Dick blinked. "Wait, Hawkgirl-"

"She felt uneasy with the totalitarian regime of the Lords. I believe she was something of a fan of democracy. May I continue?" When Dick remained silent, Bruce resumed his explanation.

"Superman immediately decided that we should 'help' our counterparts in organising their world. He and J'onn tricked them into coming here, where they were captured. I elected to act as jailor, while the others went through the portal.

"Eventually, the League escaped, and _their_ Batman confronted me, here. He..." Bruce studiously stared into the fire "finished what you started."

Dick couldn't help but give a derisive harrumph. "You never did listen to anyone but yourself, did you?"

"No. I never did. The League went back to their own dimension, and I got the rest of the story from Hawkgirl. She told me that the Lords and the League fought, and that the League won, with a little help from Lex Luthor.

"He had somehow constructed a device that nullified powers, and used this on the Lords."

Dick sat in silence. That explained _almost_ everything.

"But what about the Martian and Hawkgirl? They could still fight."

"That's because neither of them have 'powers'. Whatever abilities they have stem from their innate physiology as opposed to any outside influence."

Dick nodded. That left only one question...

"What happens now?"

Bruce gave an honest answer.

"I don't know."

**--**

**The Three Week Epilogue.**

"Find anything?" Cyborg asked his new arm.

"_Not really,"_ his arm replied in Nightwing's voice. _"The staff have all cleared out. How about you?"_

"Well, there's some serious hardware here. I might just have to salvage some of it," Cyborg replied, grinning. "Changeling, you found anything interesting?"

"_What? ...Oh, nah, not really. The only thing I can think of is this stack of old Justice Guild comics in Green Lantern's room. Thought he might appreciate them."_

Cyborg shrugged. "Well, haul 'em to the Javelin, then." With that, he turned back to the huge bank of computers, trying to assess what could be useful.

"_Guys... I've been thinking," _his arm said after a few minutes.

"_Uh oh."_

"_Shut up, 'Wing. I thought, what happens now? I mean, Metropolis is unprotected, so is Gotham, and Central, and Keystone. Perhaps we should-"_

"_No. We're not replacing them. I already told you that,"_

"_Dude! Hear me out! Listen; there will _always_ be a need for superheroes, right? New bad guys will pop up, natural disasters will happen, and so on. With the Lords in jail, there's a serious vacuum. What if the Titans filled it? I'm not talking about taking power or anything, but what if we worked _with_ the government? Kinda like we do with Jump City at the moment?"_

"_Have a liaison with the U.N., you mean?" _Nightwing sounded thoughtful. _"It's an idea. Cyborg?"_

"I've heard worse ideas. We'll have to think about it." He grinned. "Although, it is kinda worrying that we're taking one of Changeling's ideas seriously. I'm still waiting for the Zombie Ninja Pirates to make an appearance."

"_Ha. Ha. Ha."_

"_We'll have to discuss it with the others."_

"In any case, you've given me a great excuse to swipe some more toys," Cyborg said, his grin widening.

**--**

**The Three Month Epilogue.**

Jinx stomped through the silent streets of Central City, in a grand high dudgeon. When she arrived at her destination, which was a side street in the middle of nowhere, she stopped, and spoke to the night.

"Alright, I know you're out there, so just come out already."

"As you wish, Ms. Jinx."

Jinx started and jumped around to see the Stranger standing under the dull glow of a lamp post. Steeling her resolve, she spoke.

"Alright, so you've won. What do you want?"

The Stranger looked nonplussed. "What do you mean?"

"You've been behind this the whole time. You played Nightwing like a damn Stradivarius, and I daresay you did the same to the rest of us. I want to know _why_. It's pretty damn obvious the Lords couldn't touch you, and if you wanted them gone you could have done it yourself, instead of hiding behind us."

The Stranger smiled enigmatically. "But I could not, for that is not my role."

Jinx frowned. "Whatever. Now, answer my question. What did you do all this for?"

"The intent and desire was inside each of you all along. I simply assisted you in realising it. None of you wanted to see the country in the Lords' grip, and I helped you all to overthrow them. That is what I wanted; to help you."

"Bullshit." Jinx was fuming. "You didn't 'help' us, you _manipulated _us, _used_ us. And I. Don't. Like. Being. Used."

The Stranger opened his arms out wide. "Does it matter? Look around you. You _won_. And without anyone getting hurt, I might add. Isn't that worth a little deception?"

Jinx's glower was his only response.

"You could call my methods deceitful, manipulative, even underhanded. Or, you could say I was a guide, helping you to face up to the hard choices you each had to make." He shrugged. "It's not my place to tell you what to think of me. In any case, it doesn't matter. You won't be hearing from me again, I daresay. Good evening, Ms. Jinx."

With that, he retreated, and the fog swallowed him whole.

_**End.**_

**--**

**Since several of you were confused be the conclusion (the majority of you clearly hadn't seen the Justice League episode) I thought I'd post this early. Now I have to decide whether or not to write the sequel immediately, or take some time out to write a BB/Jinx first.**


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